Resident Evil: An End to Any Beginning
by gelatoghost
Summary: A start to a Resident Evil inspired story. More to come if people like it. I hope somebody enjoys it.


Helloooo! This is my first entry. I don't write often, so please don't swear at me and throw tomatoes. I'm just having fun!

I very randomly felt like writing this, and did, so here it is! I would appreciate some reviews more than you know. Yes, you. stares O.O

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I've lost count of time. Batteries have run dry. Electricity is like a word stacked on your tongue until it's lost meaning. It made reading time difficult, and I only have the tattered callenders to guess off of. I can't remember when I was last clean, safe and...happy. The least I can get out of this, is that I no longer feel fear.

There was an utter silence in the town of Portland, Oregon. Yes, the entire town, despite it's fairly large size. There were people still living, yes; but a male by the name of Gerard, nestled in the corner of a strange apartment, felt like the universe revolved around him...and still managed to forget.

"Cold." he murmured, staring at the door with circles of dark red under his eyes, which highlighted the wrinkles under them. Don't be fooled, though. He was young. Roughly twenty one years old... In fact, his birthday had passed not five days ago.

His body was once chubby, but now lean, but he achieved it in an unhealthy manor. Blond hair and light hazel eyes matched his tanned face well. Mostly German, he took those facial features, but he was only 5'6" tall. Though, he didn't mind that...he figured being short helped him in out in life. Besides, there was nobody to call him names.

The worn soles of his brown sneakers gripped the dirty, cold linoleum of the kitchen, before he began walking towards the door. He'd broken into the apartment to sleep, but he heard noises outside, and that's when he hid... It was useless, he thought.

"I could sure use a drink about now...mmm! Yes." he said, pitch rising sharply in his hunger driven moan.

His hand wrapped around the cold knob, before the wooden slab was swung open. Next, he thumbed the plastic button of the elevator over the bold B -- nothing. He continued as his gaze swung around to search for the stairs, treating the button like a telecom, typing moris code.

It was then he smelt it, invading his nostrils and causing him to grimace. A smell that seemed designed to be everything nasty and rancid to the nose. His left foot slid back along the commercial carpet, allowing sight behind him and down the hall. They found him...

"Fuck." he muttered as he started into a sprint down the hall, at a 90 degree angle to that long hall he came from. You could overtake a hall in seconds in these places, if you were running fast enough, and he grew tired of slamming his shoulder into the walls with each turn, AS he grew more tired.

There was focus in his eyes and his shins were already beginning to ache. He dared not look behind him. He could already feel the shadow creeping closer, crawling around the corner like a black light, flickering from a candle that drew closer and casted it's light upon the walls. This was his life now. It was all he knew and all he remembered. Those he "grew up" with were gone, and he had but one purpose now -- to run.

There was a way he imagined the world in his mind, now... He started with a map of it, and dripped ink into the center. This ink was all that was vile and wicked in the world; currupting it and taking human life. Now, if it dropped long enough, and nothing could stop it...it would eventually blacken it. The land would be dark and clouded. The map would be useless.

He hoped the process could begin again, but this time with a cleaner...slowly eating away the ink, starting from the center...if only he knew where the center was, and who possessed such a cleanser. This was his second purpose, and secondary in his mind. But that wouldn't be for long. Things were about to start falling into his lap...starting with a laptop.

He locked a door of a random, generic room. He could have figured it was the same one as before. He could feel and hear the soft heartbeats beneath his ribcage, and echoing through his bones, his sight clouded with forming sweat around his eyes as he nervously swiped the back of his hand across it.

"No...?" he asked himself in a whisper as his large eye peered into the peephole desperately. They were gone...or were they waiting. And that's when he saw it. The black, unfolded laptop, sitting at the desk. It was as if the room was empty, except for those two objects, as he slowly began towards it, his eyes fixated.

"Score."


End file.
